Keeping Score
by Mrs Dionysius O'Gall
Summary: Lorelai wakes up, not in her bed. The experience causes her to confront Luke. 'The shirt was all wrong. The pheromones must be wrong.'
1. Score One for Lorelai Gilmore

It was morning. Gray and unwelcome, much more than normal. 

Lorelai was not a morning person on the best of days.

This room was hot, musty and decidedly not her bedroom, nor a room at the Dragonfly. The heat was turned up even though it was early spring.

A stiffly starched shirt collar edged its way up towards her face, past her chin, and threatened to sneak up over her nose.

'Since when do I sleep in one of Luke's dress shirts?' she thought. She nuzzled the shirt collar, and took a deep breath through the nose.

The shirt was all wrong. The pheromones must be wrong.

In a panic, she recoiled, and then remembered how he'd given her a shirt from his overnight bag.

This shirt was all wrong.

She was used to flannel, to a feeling of comfort. But this shirt evoked none of those feelings. Its scent was alien to her.

She looked up to see Christopher in the doorway leading from the bathroom.

Her panic grew as she hurriedly whipped the covers off her legs, hoping that there would be no evidence of sexual intercourse.

"Don't worry, Lor," he said, "nothing happened."

She was relieved to find that under the shirt, she was still wearing her bra and panties.

-----

Why? She wondered why she was in his bed. What was she doing here, in the worst kind of motel?

Her mind drifted back to the day before.

-----

He'd said that April would be at the diner from four until eight PM.

What he neglected to tell her was that he was apparently throwing a party honoring Lane and Zach.

At ten minutes after eight, Lorelai figured that the coast was clear. As she did every evening that April visited, she waited until "visiting hours" were over before making her way to Luke's. She walked up to the diner, perplexed though by the bright lights, a string of which extended out the door. Music blasted from the open door, and even Taylor's Shoppe seemed bright and cheery, inadvertently participating in the revelry.

Lorelai, curious, slipped into Taylor's and purchased the special of the day. As the young teen behind the counter handed her her change, Lorelai stole a glance towards the window into the diner. A glance that she had sadly become very good at, she thought.

For all the times that she'd sneaked a peek to see Luke patiently talking with his daughter, this particular peek was her undoing.

The happy family. Luke, April, and a voluptuous brunette. All smiling. All three gathered around Lane.

Her ice cream suddenly packed the punch of a fistful of Hatch chili peppers eaten raw with a jalapeno juice chaser. Lorelai left her ice cream on the counter and quickly exited the shop.

She'd tried. She'd tried for months. She thought that after all this time of being honest about Chris, of only minimally freaking out about the existence of Luke's child, of being publicly and privately supportive, of never once mentioning the two-month lie of omission he'd told, that he'd finally see. He'd finally let her in.

"This'll never work…" he began that night that he demanded she pledge her honesty.

He was right--she had to hand it to him. Only he was the one not being honest.

A suffocating sense of dread threatened to squeeze her head into a marble block. She had to leave. Had to get out, get out of Stars Hollow, get out of any place that reminded her of him. Of them.

And that's when she called Chris.

-----

She can't remember exactly how she got here, a bed in a dusty Hartford no-tell motel. She vaguely recalled a bar, but after that, nothing.

Well she sure showed Luke, except he wasn't there to see.

And now that she was in the middle of this mess, she belatedly knew that it wasn't the way to go. Being in Chris's bed would not convince Luke to include her in his life, and would not make Luke love her as much as she loved him.

------

Christopher claimed that nothing had happened, that he'd offered her his shirt for sleeping purposes only.

Yet the evidence was there, right next to her, in the form of a dent in the mattress.

Even the imprint of his body was all wrong.

She remembered the first time she'd woken up with Luke. The joy, the giddiness, the sexiness, the trust. His taste on her lips. His scent all over her body. She was no longer the girl that woke up that morning, draped over Luke. That girl was a confident woman. Now, she was…she didn't know anymore.

Now, she had just awoken in a strange bed in a motel with a man whose pheromones were all wrong. Laying there, she knew that the strange-smelling shirt, the musty air in the room, the man in the room, were wrong for her.

When she proposed to Luke, she'd told him that she just wanted to be happy. How did it all go so wrong? A child coming into one's life should be a wonderful, happy event, not a nightmare of mistrust and subterfuge.

And she was in Chris's bed.

She wondered where Luke was right now. Probably accepting the early delivery of some food or supplies at the diner. Was he thinking about her?

'No,' her inner self answered, 'he's thinking about her. The kid. And possibly the mother.'

"Call a cab for me, Chris?" she asked.

-----

Riding back to Stars Hollow, dressed in the previous day's clothing, she mentally rehearsed what she was going to say to him.

-----

"Luke!"

He looked up, surprised.

Before he could react, she demanded that he go upstairs with her.

"You, me, we need to talk. Now."

The damn bastard had the nerve to hesitate.

"What? You have someone upstairs?" Lorelai challenged, defiantly tilting her chin up towards the stairs, daring him to answer.

Luke opened his mouth, ready to argue with her, then dejectedly led the way upstairs.

Closing the door, she continued. "Come on, Luke, say it. Say it! I'm not supposed to come to the diner unless you give me permission!"

'Come on, say it, Luke, I dare you Luke,' she silently repeated to herself.

"Lorelai," he weakly countered, "it's not like that…"

"The hell it isn't! 'April will be here from three to seven. I'll see you after that.' 'April will be here from two to nine.' 'I just need time to get to know my kid.'"

Lorelai took a deep breath.

"Well apparently, so does everyone else in town! You think I wouldn't find out that Lane's playing board games with your kid, that Babette's teaching her how to crochet, that Kirk is letting her walk the dogs around the square, that Miss Patty's shooting the breeze with the kid and her mom…"

She stopped; the stricken look on his face letting her know that her arrows had embedded themselves in his heart.

Score one for Lorelai Gilmore.

The thought emboldened her. There was no turning back now.

"I seem to remember a certain pledge we took," she quickly reminded him, knowing full well that her words would further twist the arrows into his heart.

Oh, twist they did.

"Right over there, as a matter of fact…" She pointed to where she'd crawled into his lap during happier times.

Score two for Lorelai Gilmore.

She could not stop now.

"And guess in whose bed I spent the night?"

Arrows were flying everywhere.

"Guess, Luke, guess…"

Before she knew what was happening, he was directly in front of her, his blue eyes now black with anger and remorse.

"No one kept you from April." He took a deep breath. "I told you when she was coming over so you would know when to come. But what did I get? Nothing: just a pained look."

Lorelai fought the impulse to take her hand and smack it across his face.

"Do you know how much that hurt? That you didn't want to get to know a part of me? That you avoided her, me, us?"

He took a step closer to her, at the same time lowering his voice. "But the minute your precious Christopher came along with his kid, you couldn't wait, could you…"

Now, her hand whipped out and slapped him.

'There,' she thought, 'happy now?'

But she was not.

The room swirled around her. Her right hand fumbled, and tried to pull off the ring.

"Don't," he pleaded, his eyes now soft, reverting to blue, watery blue.

He reached out to brush his fingers over her tear-streaked cheek. "We can fix this, Lorelai. Tell me how. Tell me."

'No,' she thought, 'I won't let him do this to me. I can't.'

She weakly tried to push his hand away.

"You don't want to do this, Lorelai."

"Dear god, no,' she thought, 'I can't give him up.'

But she had to.

"I have to leave…go clear my head..." she stated, "I can't be around you, Luke, not when you don't see me."

"Please, don't..."

Please don't look at me that way. Please. Please Luke.

"But we're engaged, Lorelai…"

"Maybe you should think about that. What that means."

"Fine, Lorelai." Luke sighed, resigned. "But if you really want to go, I'm not going to stop you. But know this: there's no coming back."

Lorelai wavered.

"I love you Lorelai. You know that I do."

"Then why won't you marry me?"

"April…" The name died on his lips.

"I get the kid thing, Luke, I really do. I can only imagine how painful it must be. And I'm proud of how you've stepped up to the plate. But…"

He inched even closer.

"But what about me? About us?"

And closer.

"I…" Even the sentence died on his lips.

"See, Luke, that's the problem. You can't even look me in the eye and tell me what's going on." She took a deep breath. "Do you know how hard it is for me to respect your wish for space? I'm your fiancée, damn it, not your employee or some random townsperson."

"Lorelai, please..."

"Do you know how it makes me feel when I find out that yet another townsperson has spent time with her? When Babette and Patty ask me about your custody arrangement, and I, the woman you're supposedly planning to spend the rest of your life with, haven't even met your kid?"

He had no more answers to try out on her.

"Do you know how I feel when we spend more and more nights apart? Damn it, Luke, there once was a time when you bought a TV for me and we spent every night together." Her breath hitched, but she continued. "Do you know how long I cried when I saw you with your kid's mother?"

Now, he stood directly in front of, over her. She let him take her hands.

"Lorelai, I'm sorry."

"Really."

"Yes."

"I need you to trust me, Luke. I need you to need me."

He reached up and grabbed the back of her neck with one arm, and pulled her into his body with the other. She struggled, and then heard his repeated, "Sorry, so sorry. I didn't mean to…"

She reached up and kissed him, first pressing, and then crushing her lips against his.

Then she pulled the ring from her finger, and placing it into his hand, curled his fingers around it into a fist.

"I love you, Luke, and I want to marry you."

Stricken, he looked at her.

"But it takes two people to be all in. Keep this," she squeezed the hand with the ring, "and give it back to me when you decide that you can be all in again."

Squaring her shoulders, she turned and left. Turned and left him alone.

-----

People coming to the diner later that morning saw something they'd rarely seen.

"Gone fishing," the sign said.

_TBC_


	2. Luke Scores in his Sleep

A mouth is a remarkable thing, Luke thought. And quite possibly, no definitely, her mouth was the most remarkable one he'd ever encountered. Her mouth was always so warm, which he thought, was kind of funny, since she talked so much. You'd think the cold winter and cool spring air would affect its temperature. But the most wonderful thing about her mouth was the way she used it on him.

He moved slightly, smiling. He could feel her lips on his, her strong little tongue probing, and he willingly surrendered to her. Was there ever any doubt? He shuddered as her tongue delicately traced its way around his mouth, and just when he couldn't take it anymore, she relaxed. He seized that moment to envelop her mouth with his, to bruisingly claim her. No matter how often they did this, their give and take was spectacular.

And his mouth wasn't the only place where she chose to ply her skills. On the rare lazy morning when neither had to work, she would take forever to slowly explore his body with her mouth. Starting at the juncture of one earlobe and jaw line, she could easily spend an entire morning alternating between banter and delightful suckling. He'd never been with anyone who spent so much time on the little details, who didn't just rush into the main course. And it delighted him because that was the exact opposite of how she was with food and life in general. She could even send him to heaven by sucking on each of his toes, though he would never admit that even to her, pretending that he didn't care for that particular activity.

And then he thought about her warm mouth enveloping him. She could easily be every man's fantasy but she was his. He gained a new appreciation for the way she worked an ice cream cone and many was the time that she would pretend to innocently partake of such a treat, teasing him wide-eyed through the window into Taylor's Shoppe. She made him question why he'd ever been opposed to that damn window in the first place, and grateful for the counter blocking his customer's view of him below the waist.

With hands entwined in her hair, he would lock eyes with her as she pleasured him. Sometimes playfully, sometimes seriously--always a surprise with her. Over the years, he'd sometimes thought that she was a somewhat selfish, self-absorbed girl, but that was not the woman he knew once they became lovers. She had the ability to make him feel that he was the only man on the planet, and her actions backed her up.

Luke moaned, shifting to become more comfortable. If he could, he'd make love to her right this minute, without hesitation. He especially loved it when she came to him straight from the bath, wearing only her white robe. He loved to take his time, sitting at the edge of the bed as she approached him, watching her as her breathing sped up as his hands moved to her waist to tug at the belt of her robe. It would part and uncover just the most enticing bit of bare skin. She would move towards him, always laughing, always giggling, and he would pull her to him so that his legs were on either side of hers.

He would slip his hands inside her open robe and grasp her waist, and she would shiver, and he would marvel at the way she responded to his touch. She would stay stock-still, looking into his eyes, and he would not be able to look away from her.

He'd hear her inhale deeply as his hands would slowly inch upward, tracing each rib, to finally cup her breasts, his hands covered by the edge of her robe. And sometimes they played a game, where she'd pretend to be surprised that his hands had ended up there, and he would teasingly brush his thumbs across her nipples, and after that, she would agree to anything he asked of her.

Sometimes he would then kiss her, and because his hands were still on her breasts, she would moan into his kisses. And then he would stand and moving his hands around to her backside, pull her against him, so there'd be no doubt of his arousal for her. And only then would she start to move again, reaching her arms around him. And then her beautiful mouth would begin its magic. He'd fall back onto the bed, and she would always laugh like it was the funniest thing on the planet. And she would only stop laughing when he pulled her onto him.

And he'd realize each time that the greatest thing about her was that he felt comfortable with her when they were like this, when her robe was finally pushed off her shoulders and they were completely synchronized.

Luke moved once more, no longer in a comfortable position, and then awoke with a start. The sound of cars and trucks whizzing by him reminded him that he'd pulled into a rest area off of I-95.

He rubbed his eyes, and looked around him. The sun was starting to set, and as he regained his bearings, he sadly and painfully recalled how his day had started. Reaching into his right jeans pocket, he fingered the ring that Lorelai had returned in her pain over the way he had treated her since he'd found out about his daughter. She hadn't exactly broken the engagement, and he took hope from that. Was he really that big a jerk?

'Yes', he thought.

He'd noticed that over the past few months that Lorelai had looked tired and drawn. It seemed that every time he hopefully mentioned when April would be stopping by the diner, that she'd look even more pained and drawn. And that was not the Lorelai he'd known over the past year. She put on a happy face for him, but in her sleep, she would betray herself. He loved to watch her sleep, a feminine perpetual motion machine finally at rest. Her eyes would flutter under her closed lids, and she'd giggle and murmur unintelligible words. But she always looked so happy, and he'd wonder what she was dreaming about. He'd reach over to brush a stray strand of hair off her forehead, and at his touch, she'd smile.

But it was his fault that lately, she'd slept fitfully, with a sad expression frozen on her face. Still fingering the ring, he looked over at the main rest area complex and realized he'd been headed towards New York City. Though he'd posted his "Gone Fishing" sign, he'd spent most of the day driving aimlessly. At one point, he found himself in New Haven but decided he couldn't burden her daughter with their problems.

Grimly shaking himself awake, he started up his truck and left the rest area. Looking over his shoulder, he merged onto the access road.

And that was when the realized that he was in the wrong lane. And that there was a car rushing toward him. That was the last thing he would see before darkness overtook him. 


	3. Connecticut: 1, Lorelai Gilmore: 0

Stars Hollow was a quiet town. After all, it was a town with just one traffic light! Therefore, when a Crown Vic bearing the seal of the Great State of Connecticut pulled up in front of Luke's Diner, it did not go unnoticed.

Miss Patty, as always imposing in her presence, stood in her studio doorway, languidly puffing on a cigarillo, watching as a tall Connecticut State Trooper emerged from his cruiser and adjusted his grey hat. A good-looking man always piqued her interest; a good-looking man in a uniform with a gun even more so. And when such a man pulled up in front of the unofficial social hub of the town, in front of an establishment whose proprietor had suddenly disappeared from the town, well that was indeed newsworthy.

Only one thing would do in this situation: enlisting the counsel of her sister town matriarch, Babette.

"Babette, Babette," Miss Patty purred into her dainty little cell phone, "You have got to come over to Luke's RIGHT NOW!"

"Did that Anna and Lorelai finally get in a fight over him?" Babette languidly asked.

"No, my dear…" Miss Patty extinguished her cigarillo and crumpled the tobacco leaf to the ground. Walking towards Luke's, she explained, "It seems that Luke has gone fishing! And the last time he did that, you know…"

Babette sighed in understanding. "Oh. I'll be right over."

"It gets better," her friend continued, "There's a gorgeous long tall drink of a State Trooper knocking on Luke's door!"

"Maybe he's looking for Lorelai," Babette deduced, "Maybe her Rory's committed a crime again!"

"Young people these days…who knows…"

Having by now reached the entrance to Luke's, Miss Patty snapped her cell phone shut.

"Oh Officer!" she cooed, "Patricia LaCosta." She extended her hand, "May I help you?" Miss Patty made her inquiry with her most alluring smile.

By the time the officer could tip his hat to her, not only had Babette arrived, but several other townspeople were gathered in front of Luke's.

"Ma'am…folks," the officer acknowledged, "this the home of…" He consulted a report in his hand, "Lucas Danes?"

"You bet!" Babette chimed in. "But he ain't home!"

"He have any family here?"

"Well," Miss Patty clarified, "there's his fiancée, Lorelai…"

"Fiancée's not a legal family member, Ma'am," the officer explained. "Does he have parents?"

"Nope," the crowd answered.

"Siblings?"

"There's his sister Liz," Kirk spoke up, "but she's out in Arizona touring."

"Thank you, Sir…this sister, do you know her phone number? She got a last name?"

"Oh…well she's an artiste in a Renaissance Faire…" Miss Patty clarified.

"Cell phone?" the trooper persisted.

"Why dontcha just talk to his fiancée, doll?" Babette insisted.

The trooper sighed. "Alright then, ma'am. Where can I find her? Her name is…"

"Gilmore, Lorelai Gilmore. But not the one you'll find in THE SYSTEM," Taylor unctuously proclaimed, having finally appeared on the scene. "Taylor Doose, Town Selectman," he introduced himself.

"Lor'lai's at the Dragonfly Inn; she's the owner. Want Patty 'n' me to show you how ta get there?"

The trooper surveyed the group, then looked into Babette's eager face.

"She's my next door neighbor, been that for years," Babette supplied.

"Obliged, ma'am," he demurred, "uh Miss…"

"Mrs. Dell. But call me Babette."

"Ooh, officer," Miss Patty spoke up, "Will we be in the back seat? Behind the screen? Why, I haven't been escorted by an officer of the law in a very long time…"

"Just tell me how to get to Mr. Danes' fiancée," the trooper sighed in resignation.

-----

Evening was starting to overtake day as the cruiser pulled up in front of the Dragonfly Inn.

"Ladies, thank you very much," the trooper thanked his chatty passengers. "You have a way back?"

"Morey'll come and get us…" Babette supplied.

"Thank you again," the officer tipped his hat and entered the Inn.

The night manager had already begun his shift. "Officer?" he inquired.

"I'm looking for a Miss Lorelai Gilmore," the trooper replied.

"Lorelai's in her office, may I tell her who…"

"Around the corner here?"

"Yes sir."

The officer strode to Lorelai's door, which was shut, and rapped his knuckles on the door.

-----

After she'd left Luke that morning, Lorelai had gotten into her Jeep and aimlessly wandered the back roads. She'd been to Hartford, only to turn around--even though it was a large city, there was nevertheless a danger of running into one of her parents or their friends. Calling Rory was an option, but Lorelai knew that Rory was struggling with her own relationship issues. Chris? No way. Sookie? Busy with work and family.

'Home. Like Miss Scarlett,' she wryly thought. 'I'll go home to Tara.'

But the erstwhile Crap Shack held too many memories, too many happy memories at that, of him. Luke. And there was a danger that she'd see him around Stars Hollow. Her heart, with its many hairline cracks, might not survive a glimpse of him, a whiff of his scent, the sight of his clothing, the sight of their bed.

So she went to her safe haven, her Inn. After deflecting Sookie's inquiries, and taking care of a few business matters, Lorelai informed Michel that she needed to work on some strategic planning for the remainder of the year, and was unequivocally not to be disturbed.

Once in her office, she not only locked the door, but barricaded it with some furniture, then sank to the floor and quietly sobbed. All she could think of was how much she loved Luke, how much she would always love him and the devastation on his face during their fight. She spent most of the day with her emotions wildly careening between her grief over what had become of them, and fear. Fear that Luke just might decide to end their engagement, to end their relationship, to not return the ring to her. As evening approached, she began to bargain with herself: maybe she should go back to him, be more understanding, just try a little harder. After all, a terrible thing had happened to him, and she tried to imagine if somehow, she'd been in a coma during her pregnancy with Rory, and Rory had been taken away without her ever knowing that she was a mother. The things she would have missed…the things Luke had already missed…it was no wonder that it was so difficult for him to process. And here she was, prattling on about duck sausage rolls and her perfect dress, when he had such a difficult task before him, getting to know this daughter of his.

Fortunately, Lorelai had a habit of keeping a supply of junk food in a desk drawer, and there was a back way to a restroom, so she was able to avoid running into people for the remainder of the day. And now that it was evening, she began to worry about Luke. She was surprised that he hadn't tried to call her during the day. After all, they hadn't broken up--she just wanted him to consider her role in his and April's life.

Since the staff had respected her wishes and left her alone during the day, the knock on the door caught her by surprise. Perhaps, if she stayed very still, whoever it was would give up and leave.

Another knock, this time more insistent, was accompanied by a deep voice proclaiming, "Connecticut State Police."

Her first thought was Rory. Had Rory somehow missed completing part of her community service? Was a cop coming to arrest her?

"Ma'am? Miss Gilmore?" the voice on the other side of the door persisted.

Lorelai hastily smoothed her clothing, moved the furniture aside, and opened the door.

"Miss Gilmore?"

"Yes."

"May I come in?" The officer displayed his badge for her inspection.

The badge, the serious tone of his voice and the resolute look on his face caused Lorelai to decide that something had happened to Rory.

"Please, take a seat," she gestured, barely able to get the words out, herself barely able to stand.

"Thank you, ma'am," he replied, removing his hat and setting in on his knee after he'd taken his seat. He opened a folder and took out some papers.

"You are Miss Gilmore, correct?" the officer asked.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry." He put down his pen. "I'm afraid I have bad news for you."

Are those words ever followed by something other than stunned silence?

"Do you know a Lucas Danes?"

Lorelai was shocked. Her body shook as she said, "Yes."

"Mr. Danes was in an accident about three hours ago, just outside Greenwich. I'm sorry."

Luke. Luke was hurt. "I don't understand." What was Luke doing in Greenwich?

"The other driver provided a statement. Apparently," he checked the incident report, "Mr. Danes was driving on the wrong side of the road."

Lorelai sat in stunned silence. "Is he…"

"Mr. Danes was taken to Greenwich Hospital, where they say he is being treated. They've ruled out speed and alcohol; right now, it appears that Mr. Danes was confused, or perhaps not paying attention to the road."

Lorelai exhaled and the tears began to stream down her face.

The trooper reached into his pocket and pulled out a small evidence bag. "Ma'am, the trooper on the scene recovered this from Mr. Danes. If you'll check and make sure it is his property…"

Lorelai opened the bag. Luke's wallet. A folded wad of paperwork. A ring. A small screwdriver. An eyeglass repair kit. Keys.

With the tears still coming, Lorelai said, "These belong to him."

"Sign here, please."

After Lorelai signed and took possession of Luke's personal effects, the trooper stood. "Miss Gilmore," he handed her his card, "please call if you have any questions. And, I'm sorry. Is there someone who can be with you right now?"

Call the hospital. Call the hospital. Call the hospital. The words repeated in a vicious cycle in Lorelai's mind. Is he all right. I love him. He can't die.

Lorelai reached for a tissue, blew her nose, and said "Yes."

The trooper placed his hat back on his head, tipped it to her, and reminded her that should could call. "I'll see myself out, Miss Gilmore."

-----

After he left, Lorelai stood in the doorway for a second. Luke, her Luke, in an accident. She noticed that she was holding the ring clenched tightly in her hand.

She needed help. She had to get to Luke, right away. But there were so many things to do. She had to call Rory. She had to tell Caesar and Lane. And April…Just as she was starting to get a handle on things, she collapsed into her chair.

Looking at the ring, she then carefully attached it to the necklace she was wearing, then dialed the one person she thought could help her get to Luke as quickly as possible.

"Daddy? I need you…"

iTBC/i 


	4. A Game Where No One Keeps Score

One had to hand it to the Gilmores, Lorelai thought. When push came to shove, they could band together. After the fiasco that had been her attempt at family unity the previous year, she was relieved that her parents stepped up to the plate for a much more serious, a life and death matter.

After he was able to calm her down somewhat, Lorelai's call to Richard had instigated a quick series of events that resulted in the elder Gilmores and Lorelai now driving to Greenwich. Lorelai was not surprised that her father immediately jumped to her aid; what surprised her was that her mother remained relatively civil--though she did arch an eyebrow when she saw the ring on the chain around her daughter's neck. 'I'll deal with that later,' Lorelai thought.

Richard dispatched a member of his firm to make sure that Luke's truck would be properly handled. The family then quickly debated the merits of chartering a helicopter to get to the hospital, but decided that they would make better time just leaving right then and there.

Lorelai was also surprised that her mother insisted she rest in the back seat of the car. Maybe Emily Gilmore really had made an about-face concerning Luke.

And then there were the two daughters, Rory and April. Emily agreed to contact Rory and have her come to the hospital, but Lorelai insisted she wait until Rory's evening seminar was done. April was another matter. Lorelai's heart ached for the girl who had just found her daddy yet might lose him. She just couldn't face that fact herself. Lorelai called Lane, asked that she call the child, and tell her that her dad was unexpectedly out of town. Again, Lorelai decided that this was something they'd deal with at the hospital after they knew what to expect.

With the most urgent matters taken care of, all Lorelai could do was wait, and think of Luke. The hospital had not given out any information about his condition, because of the new privacy laws and the fact that Lorelai was not his next of kin. 'Yet,' she thought. And driving through the Connecticut night, the car's motion enabled her to quickly fall asleep, her head resting on her balled-up jacket. And as always, Luke was on her mind, especially the Luke she'd known before the April experience. Sleeping, she retreated to remember a happier time.

-----

Lorelai often awoke to find a man's hand on her breast.

The first time it happened, it surprised her. What was not surprising was that she quickly became used to it.

And it always went like this: they were in bed, spooning, her back to his chest; his arm placed both possessively and protectively over her. She'd never thought that she'd love the feeling of being possessed by, and protected by a man. With him, though, it felt right. It smelled right. The pheromones were keeping score. And so began one of her favorite games.

At first, she'd pretend not to notice that his hand was on her breast. Oh-so-innocently, she would then arch her back, in effect offering herself up to the owner of that hand. They say that idle hands are the devil's tools; well, based on what went on in their bed, there was no danger of that hand's owner needing to worry about eternal damnation. After a beat, that hand would begin an amazing journey: gliding over first one breast, then the other, in concentric circles. It was a hand that most definitely knew what it was doing, confident, matter-of-fact, sensuous, and always backed up by a chuckle.

Sometimes her body was clothed, sometimes not. But always, his hand was on her when she awoke. And as they awoke, sometimes, one or the other had to leave to attend to life's needs. Work. Family. Friends. But always, there was the promise of more to come.

This promise of more to come was a new feeling for Lorelai. Even during their darkest hour concerning April, she always felt that deep-down, as long as they awoke with a physical connection, that things would be alright in the end. She had never been with someone that she could count on so much for physical or emotional sustenance. It was always their call. It came down to her idea of the complete package, and with him, she knew that he was all that she was looking for, and that she was it for him. He'd told her so on their first real date. He was all in, even if at times, life threw Team Gilmore-Danes a curve ball and she'd have to eventually remind him of that.

His hand on her breast was always a good thing and always led to even better. For example, he would pull her close into him with his other hand. The hand on her breast then continued its magical journey: circling, traversing, and gently pinching. These were moments to be savored, and he knew to extend the experience. And after a few minutes, both of them would yearn for him to spend more time on other parts of her body. He liked to show, not tell.

Focusing on one part of her, he tugged Lorelai's nightshirt away from her shoulder, to allow him to brush his softened stubble over the expanse of shoulder and neck now wholly accessible to him, and him alone. After the shower incident while remodeling, she'd assured him that only he would get to see the goods from then on, and that knowledge inspired him. He'd nibble her earlobe, carefully listening for her reaction, while reveling in the fact that this experience would be his and his alone.

But after he'd spent some time lavishing his affection on the sensitive areas between her shoulder and jaw line, she desperately wanted him to just move on. Somehow, her legs had been busy during the time he was otherwise engaged, and his muscular and longer limbs were now wholly entangled with hers. It took no effort at all to slip a knee between her thighs, and the carefree ease with which she opened herself to him, welcoming him, made his breath catch. She, on the other hand, was surprised to learn how grateful he never ceased to be...

In the mornings, since she wasn't a morning person, his busy yet gentle caresses, and the parting of her thighs combined to produce a sexually charged dream-state. Eyes closed, she could pretend that she was asleep, at his mercy, wholly but innocently relinquishing herself to him. And even as she slowly roused herself, she'd keep her eyes closed, not quite ready to relinquish sleep. If she chose to open her eyes, she would stare ahead and revel in the mystery of this man behind her. Even if she would want to pretend he was someone else, say Bono, hypothetically speaking, there was no escaping the fact that he, just by scent and caress, had imprinted himself to such an extent that it could only be him.

Scent and caress, such a potent combination. She'd close her eyes, and inhale deeply, her sense of smell enhanced by depriving herself of sight. The same applied to his touch.

When they were first together, his touch was often hesitant, as if he were handling a priceless museum piece. But she taught him, and taught him well: that he was the only man she wanted, and that his touch was most definitely wanted, and most of all, needed. For a man who often worked with his hands, his touch was deft and variable: sometimes light, sometimes firm, yet always sure. It amazed her that just the sweep of a finger across her nipples could instantly harden them, sending lightning bolts of arousal to her core and to places she'd never experienced arousal before, like the tip of her chin. She was simply addicted. "Hi, my name is Lorelai, and I'm a Luke-a-holic." Because once she tasted his lips, his chest, his throat; trailed her tongue over his biceps and around both his tattoos, and then down to where their bodies differed...Yes, she was Lorelai, a Luke-a-holic.

And he knew. Oh, he knew. Because he suffered from an equally addictive affliction.

Knowing this about the other, they both felt a responsibility to carefully preserve it, to nurture it. Lorelai did not take this duty lightly.

No one had ever so wholly depended on her for both physical and emotional love, and she had herself never depended on anyone in that way.

And always, his hand would work its magic as she inhaled his scent and languished in the land between night and morning.

After a while, his hand would work her into a frenzy, so that she was begging him, "Make love to me, Luke," her voice a breathy shadow of its normal self. No coy "make love WITH me," this was a command.

A command he was eager to obey.

He knew that patience was not one of her virtues; he'd learned early on that taking his time to remove her clothing only led to frustration and comedies of error. It was much simpler to quickly slip her sleepwear over her head, using his hands to shield her chest from the coolness of the early morning.

"Turn," he'd command. And she'd turn without protest and he would gaze upon her chest and reach out to capture each nipple between fingers. She'd cry out as he rolled each between his fingers, exerting just enough pressure so that she'd easily sign over the inn, Paul Anka, her jeep and anything else she possessed at that moment to him. Another twist and she would be writhing, and finally, begging. That was the cue for his hand to slip down and stroke her thighs.

Again, quick removal of clothing made more sense than slowly seducing her clothing off her. He'd hook his thumb over the waistband of both her sweats and panties, and yank them down, whispering "Kick" for her to finally shed them.

"If I had my way, you'd never wear clothes," he sometimes informed her in a sleep-rasped voice, looking her confidently, almost defiantly, in the eyes. And while looking into her eyes, he'd kick off his own sweats and boxers, quickly dispatching them to the growing pile on the floor.

Returning to her, he would once again spoon behind her. And in that position, he would adjust her legs and make her extremely vulnerable to him--just in time for his fingers to spring into action.

That was always a surprise to her, because others had been perfunctory in that department. He on the other hand, took his time. He'd show her. Always show her.

Stroking, he'd demand, "Give in, Lorelai," while gliding his so-talented fingers over her folds. The fingers that carved figures on a chuppah could write poetry on her body. The hands that worked in the kitchen could turn up the heat in her.

This game always ended up the same way. She'd pretend to resist and he would press on, creating a spark, then a fire.

Because while his fingers were working, so were her hips.

"God, Lorelai," he'd groan, then quickly refocus and turn his attention back to her, Two fingers would search out that very special knot of nerves, and tweak it just like he had tweaked her nipples.

"Dear God...!" she'd cry out, writhing in his arms.

"Would you just be still?" He'd parody a phrase from their first kiss.

And before she could take another breath, he'd push inside her, with his hand on her hip, pulling her toward him.

"Lorelai," he would whisper into her hair.

And then he would begin to move.

This was a position of trust for Lorelai, because in this position, he controlled everything. She had to allow him to take the lead, to decide how to thrust into her. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow, but always, his hot breath whispered, "I love you," into her ear, "I just do."

And then he would groan, "Oh, Lorelai...my God..."

Seconds later, his hand would return to the bundle of nerves at her core; he was now a man with a mission. His objective: turn this strong independent woman into a mindless wanton consumed by sensation; one without pride, without reason, who only existed to respond to him. And he accomplished that mission by relentlessly working his fingers, continuing his loving assault.

It was only fair. Because she had the same effect on him.

"Let go," he'd gently demand, "for me," sensitive to her agitation, while kissing her everywhere his lips could reach.

It wasn't that he was trying to exert his power over her; it was that she was always so strong for everyone else. Letting her let go in a safe place was his gift to her.

Plus, he loved to watch her, to feel her reactions, to inhale her scent. And with that as motivation, how could she deny him?

Her breath now frantic, she would say his name as she exploded, moaning, screaming, and whispering. Then, stroking her arms and back with infinite tenderness, he'd coax her back down to earth, safely wrapped in his arms.

This was a game where no one kept score.

-----

And as Lorelai, in her dream, remembered how tightly Luke would then hug her to him, she opened her eyes.

The car was pulling into the parking lot of Greenwich Hospital.

Her father turned around, hearing her yawn, and simply said, "Good that you were able to rest."

TBC 


	5. Emily Scores One for the Team

Richard dropped Lorelai and Emily off at the hospital entrance, irritated because there wasn't any valet parking.

Entering the hospital, the two older Gilmore girls were assaulted by the bright lights and hustle-bustle of a busy hospital lobby, lights not at all subdued even though it was now officially night. As Lorelai veered towards the Information Desk, Emily steered her away, towards the elevators.

Lorelai stopped, and tugged at Emily's arm. "Mom, where are you going? We need to find out where Luke is…"

"We'll just go up to the ICU," Emily retorted.

"But we don't know that he's there. Listen to me, Mom, Luke is somewhere in this hospital and it's huge."

Lorelai stalked off back to the Information Desk, and caught the eye of the young volunteer staffing the desk.

"I need to find someone…" Lorelai started. "He was in an accident." She was barely maintaining her composure.

"Are you family?" the volunteer responded.

"Accident victims brought into surgery, where would one go? Luke Danes, his name is Luke Danes." Emily's voice commandeered and took over the conversation. Her attitude and demeanor left no margin for doubt that this was a woman in charge.

"Let me see…" the volunteer consulted a computer screen. Seconds later, the response came, along with a pointing finger, "Take the elevators on the east side up to Floor Five. When you get there, the halls will be color coded. Follow the red lines, around the corner from the elevators."

"Follow the red, around the corner…" Lorelai repeated. "All righty then."

When they reached Floor Five, they were greeted with a color grid on the walls.

"Follow the red line, then around the corner, Mom," Lorelai instructed.

Rounding the corner, they were greeted with huge stainless steel swinging doors, and the words 'Intensive Care'. Seeing the words hammered the seriousness of the situation into Lorelai's consciousness, and she sagged slowly against the wall.

"He's really hurt, Mom…"

"Come, Lorelai, let's see what we can find out." Always matter of fact, Emily pushed through the doors and Lorelai followed.

They found themselves in a large waiting area. A television set droned softly in a corner, a small family huddled around it. Over at a table, a man hunched over a laptop, and a woman adjacent to him was playing a board game with a child. At the far end, there was yet another set of doors.

Emily marched straight through the room and pushed open those doors as well, beckoning Lorelai to follow her. They both ignored the sign that read, "Only One Family Member per Patient."

The scene that greeted Lorelai was overwhelming and unfamiliar. A series of rooms lined the far wall, and various medical personnel were walking about. Luke. Where was he? Surely she should be able to sense where he was?

Lorelai looked to Emily for help. This situation was tailor-made for her. And Emily did not disappoint.

She accosted the first person that passed close to her. "Excuse me, Miss, I am looking for Luke…"

"Sorry, Ma'am, you need to go over there. Nurses Station." She pointed out the appropriate desk.

As they walked to the desk, Lorelai snuck glances into each room they passed. Most of the doors were open, but the lights were subdued, so she couldn't figure out if a particular patient was Luke. Reaching the desk, Emily again took over.

"Nurse! Nurse! Luke Danes, please."

"Excuse me," the woman at the desk replied, "may I help you?"

"We're here to see Luke Danes. He was in an accident," Lorelai supplied.

"Danes. Danes." The nurse checked yet another computer screen. "Over there, Number Seven."

Lorelai turned to head towards Number Seven.

"Not so fast," the nurse answered. "First of all, only one at a time. Second, only family members are allowed. Are you family?"

Lorelai hesitated a beat. 'Not yet, but soon,' she thought.

The nurse interpreted Lorelai's hesitation as evidence that she was not family. "I'm sorry ladies, I'm afraid I can't tell you anything about his condition. Only family is allowed. Perhaps you can try and contact…"

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Emily burst in, "she's his WIFE!"

Lorelai shot her mother a look of gratitude. Emily did have balls, she thought.

"Y-y-es. We were married last June, June 3," she stammered.

"Well why didn't you say so in the first place, Mrs. Danes?" the nurse, now exasperated, replied. "Number Seven. And you," she pointed at Emily, "stay back here. Only one at a time."

"It's OK, mom. Why don't you go out into the hall and see if you can reach Dad."

-----

Lorelai tiptoed into the darkened room, lit only by low-level lighting and a myriad of machines and monitors.

Various tubes seemed to protrude out of a number of places along the bed. 'God, Luke will freak out when he wakes up,' she thought.

Shaking, she crept closer to the bed. It was Luke.

Breaking down, Lorelai began to softly cry, as her eyes surveyed the beloved person before her. His head looked fine, and he wasn't on a respirator. It was a good thing that she watched a lot of medical shows on TV, she decided.

Whatever had happened to him, must have happened to his chest or torso, she decided, because she could see the outline of his legs under the thin thermal blanket. And his arms, except for the IV, looked fine as well. She reached out to the hand that was closest to her, that didn't have an IV in it, and softly touched it.

He felt so warm. He was alive.

"Ma'am?" Lorelai was startled by the voice of a young woman entering Luke's room. "And you are…?

"I'm his fi…his wife."

"I am Dr. Sivakumar, I'm Mr. Danes' intensivist."

"Intens…"

"I specialize in intensive care," the doctor explained. "Can I help answer any questions?"

"How is he? What's happened to him?" Lorelai asked.

"Hold on." The doctor reached for a chart at the foot of the bed. "He's in serious condition, but stable right now. He was brought in with a concussion, and more seriously, a lacerated liver," she ruffled through the chart, "consistent with blunt force trauma to the abdomen."

Lorelai swayed, unstable on her feet.

"Are you alright, Mrs. Danes?"

"What does that mean, lacerated liver…"

"We attempted to repair it in surgery. We'll know more over the next forty-eight hours. It's looking good."

"Will he have any problems afterwards?"

"If he follows his doctor's orders, three months of recovery and he'll be as good as new."

Lorelai sighed, swaying once more.

"Ma'am, are you going to be all right? Let me have one of the nurses bring you a chair."

-----

When the chair came, Lorelai sank into it, pulling it up as close to Luke's bedside as she dared. "Oh Luke," she whispered, then became too choked up to continue. She pressed a soft kiss on the back of his hand.

She sat in silence, stroking his hand, looking at his face, making sure he was breathing.

"Where is my daughter? I demand to see my daughter!" Emily's voice pierced the calm of the ICU. 


	6. Mommy Evens the Score

"Mommy, why do people have to die?" 

It was an age-old question. The mother looked at her child, sick with a fever, so serious, tucked under the covers. "Well, my child, people sometimes die in accidents," she began, "Or they get sick."

"Like me? Am I going to die?"

"No, sweetie, no. You are not going to die until you are really really old."

"But it hurts, Mommy."

"I know, sweetie, I know."

The child's eyes were still wide, as if not believing the mother's words.

She looked at her child, and added, "You'll feel better soon." She placed a kiss on her child's forehead. "You know that I love you and would never lie to you, don't you?"

The child still wondered. "But Mommy, why do people have to die?"

"Because that's how life is, but most of the time, people don't die until they are very very VERY old."

"As old as Grandpa and Grandma?"

"Even older, sweetie."

"I miss Grandpa and Grandma."

"I love you, sweetie." Her cool hands rested on her child's forehead. "I miss them too. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, Mommy."

Her cool hand continued to stroke her child's face, soothing and caressing, bringing comfort. She began a story she'd memorized years before.

"I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be…"

"Oh mom, I'm too old for THAT story…"

She picked up the child's hand, the one closest to her, and subconsciously rubbed her thumb back and forth along it. She smiled, in that enigmatic way that mothers have always had through the centuries. "You're feeling better…"

"I'm not going to die, mom, right?"

"Of course not."

"I'm going to feel better soon? Promise me?"

"Yes, sweetie, she responded. "Cross my heart and hope to die…"

"Tell me the story, mom."

"I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my big boy you'll be…"

One year later, Luke's mother was dead.

------

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He must still be dreaming. His mother was still stroking the back of his hand.

His throat hurt, really hurt. There was numbness below his throat, but his throat hurt. He tried to clear it, but Luke found that he couldn't really make a sound.

His eyes struggled to flutter open; maybe he really was dead, and in heaven with his mom. Except, Luke didn't believe in heaven and if it did exist, didn't think he'd done anything good enough to merit being there. And it definitely was not heaven if Lorelai was not there.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Someone was crying.

Someone was still holding his hand.

His eyes wouldn't open.

-----

"Dr. Smith to the OR, Dr. Smith to the OR." An intercom blared commands to doctors and nurses, all scuttling around the hospital halls. "Paging Loretta Miller. Loretta Miller. Paging Loretta Miller."

Just another day at the hospital.

As he walked down the hallway, he saw them. The two of them. Lorelai was smiling, her body still heavy. He noticed that she had on a pretty blue gown, not a hospital-issued one, with a pretty blue robe around it, all bringing out the blue in her eyes.

"Mom, you're not supposed to be up yet!"

"But I want to see him, see him with all his little new friends. And what if something happens to him, like on that one CSI episode where…"

Rory smiled indulgently at her mother.

He watched as they approached the large glass windows that looked into the nursery. Just the two of them were there; it wasn't the usual time of day when a throng of new dads and moms and assorted relatives looked in on their babies.

He watched as they both pressed their faces against the window, making silly goofy faces, leaving lip prints on the glass.

Their attention focused on the window nearest to him. He walked up behind them--why couldn't they see him--and looked into the nearest window and saw him. A small baby boy (he assumed from the blue knit cap covering the head) lay sound asleep in his isolette. His eyes were drawn to the name placard affixed to the isolette above the baby's head. It read: GILMORE, WILLIAM DANES.

William Danes Gilmore. He gazed at the child and placed his hand on the glass. 'My baby,' he thought. 'Our baby.'

He heard soft crying. Lorelai was crying. 'No! Don't cry,' he tried to say, but no sound came from his throat.

He saw Rory look up, and smile sadly. He followed her line of sight, and saw a man approach the small family unit. His grin was goofy. His hand dragged a sullen kindergarten-age girl along with him.

His heart lodged in his throat. This was a figure he knew all too well.

He watched as Lorelai pressed her hand against the glass and then turned as the man slowly walked towards her. He embraced her, placing a kiss on her cheek.

"Chris! You came! And GiGi, how's it going?"

"Hi Auntie…"

"C'mon GiGi, let's see the baby!" Rory suggested.

"Is he my brother?"

"No, GiGi, but he's Rory's brother," Christopher advised his younger daughter.

"Who's his daddy?" the little girl asked.

"Let's not upset Auntie Lor," Christopher said.

Rory approached and kissed her dad on both cheeks, then hugged him. "I'm so glad you're here to help Mom through this, Dad," she whispered.

"Glad to be here for her," he replied.

"It's been so rough on her ever since he left to be with Anna…"

What? How could this be? He didn't love Anna, that was over a decade in the past…Yes, there was April, but April had nothing to do with Lorelai.

Rory ruffled GiGi's hair. "How's it going?"

The question was addressed to both child and father.

"It's going," Christopher admitted. Christopher and his two daughters stood and watched Lorelai, who was now on the other side of the nursery window.

"Maybe someone should tell Luke," Rory continued. "But Mom keeps saying, he made his choice. And she loves him too much to screw up his new life."

"Maine, huh?" Christopher asked.

"As far as we know."

Luke crept closer to the glass. He watched as Lorelai picked the little baby up, then sank down into the rocking chair in the nursery. He watched as she parted her robe, and untied her gown, and placed the baby--his son!--to her breast. He heard as she whispered, "I'll always love your daddy."

He watched as she fed their baby. He heard as she whispered, "I love you, Luke. I love you, Luke."

-----

"I love you, Luke."

Luke tried once more to open his eyes. This time, his eyes flashed open.

The 'Beep! Beep! Beep!' jerked him awake.

Disoriented, he heard Lorelai's "I love you, Luke" over and over, and felt her stroking his hand. And why was his hand so wet? His heart was pounding, his head was throbbing, his throat was painful, he was waking but felt so, so tired. But he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

"I love you, Luke," Lorelai repeated.

"S…Sorry…" Luke rasped, and Lorelai jumped.

What was happening? Why was Lorelai sobbing?

Lorelai leaned over and sobbed even harder. "Oh Luke, I'm so sorry, so sorry…I didn't mean to hurt you…"

_TBC  
_**A/N:** The first verse of Robert Munsch's "love You Forever" is courtesy of www . robertmunsch . com  
And yes, I know that story was written in 1986 and doesn't fit the timeline for Luke's life. But I like it.


	7. Emily scores the kid and the Baby Mama

Two days later, Luke moved into a regular room. Lorelai had maintained her vigil by his side; Emily made sure that a cot was in the room and that Lorelai had access to a shower. At one point, she'd thought she'd heard Emily offer to fund a wing in the hospital if Lorelai was allowed to stay with Luke. 

'I guess there'll be an Emily Gilmore Pavilion here someday,' Lorelai smirked to herself. Hell, she might have to put one up herself. Her mother had outdone herself making sure that Luke had the right room, the proper care, and that things were taken care of at both the Inn and the Diner. Lorelai winced, remembering the previous night's conversation with Sookie…whom Emily was apparently driving insane. Although, once Lorelai considered Emily's actions a little longer, she realized that Emily was probably making sure that Luke and his medical care wouldn't embarrass the DAR façade she always maintained.

Speaking of façades, Lorelai hated to admit it, but she hadn't looked very human the past few days. Her hair thanked her, though, for taking care of it this morning, and she planned to enter Luke's room in a renewed, happier mood, and that included treating him to her famous hair flip.

After waiting for the elevator, Lorelai rode up to the Fourth Floor, where Luke's room now was. She had gotten used to being in the ICU with Luke, holding his hand, making sure he was never alone when he awoke. He'd been in and out of sleep. As she turned the corner into the room that Luke (and she) would call home for the next few days, she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight before her. She was surprised that it was even happening; she couldn't imagine what the phone call that led to the sight before her eyes must have sounded like.

Little April was seated at the head of Luke's bed, where a nurse was also busy tending to the equipment. To the side, by the bathroom door, a group of women huddled: Emily, Rory, and a woman about her age. The three were clearly having an enjoyable conversation, and Lorelai guessed, based on the resemblance, that the third woman was Luke's former lover, April's mother.

The nurse, just finishing getting various lines and tubes untangled, was apparently being quizzed by April. Lorelai, glad her appearance had been tended to, walked quietly into the room, squaring her shoulders and making sure she had a smile on her face.

The hair flip would have to wait for later.

"And then I had to fire her, because she simply didn't know a crème brulée from a crème a la Irena," Emily was saying, while the woman she assumed was Anna laughed hysterically. She looked up, and called out "Lorelai" as she noticed her daughter.

Lorelai felt somewhat annoyed by all the hustle and bustle in the room. She looked into Luke's eyes, first winking, then silently mouthing "Hi handsome," to him, and sat down at the edge of the bed. She wanted everyone to go away; she wanted to touch Luke, to let him know that she was still his, still all in. Most of all, she wanted to get him home. She remembered how much he hated hospitals.

Luke, for his part, smiled as she strode in; the pain in his abdomen remained at a low thud thanks to Lorelai's constant monitoring of his pain medication.

"Hi," Lorelai addressed April, "long time no see."

"Lorelai…" Luke attempted to interject.

"The not-strangler!" April noted.

"You must be April…" Lorelai continued.

"Yep."

"Lorelai…" he tried again, his nervousness obvious.

She let him interrupt. He was injured, after all.

"Lorelai, April…I'd like you to meet each other…"

"Hi, I'm April, Luke's daughter." April extended her hand to Lorelai.

"And I'm Lorelai, Luke's fiancée…" Lorelai ignored April's hand, opting instead to reach out and give her a quick hug. "Have you met my kid, Rory, over there?"

"Yeah. She goes to Yale."

"I know," Lorelai laughed, looking over at a still-nervous Luke. "Is that your mom?" she whispered conspiratorially.

April nodded in the affirmative.

Luke cleared his throat. He'd noticed the glances that Anna had shot Lorelai's way.

Lorelai gave Luke's hand a squeeze, leaned over and placed a quick kiss on his cheek, and rose, walking over to Rory, Emily, and Anna.

"I see the other two Gilmore girls have made your acquaintance," Lorelai stated, extending her hand to Anna, "I'm Lorelai. The middle Gilmore Girl."

Anna and Lorelai exchanged brief but awkward pleasantries.

"So our boy Luke here has really gotten himself into some trouble," Lorelai noted. "I'm glad April is able to be here. How did that happen?"

-----

Anna Nardini had not liked it when Luke's employee called her to let her know that Luke was out of town. But a day later, when a woman named Emily Gilmore called her, explaining that Luke was her future son-in-law and was hospitalized after an accident, she was truly surprised. She'd had no idea that Luke was seeing anyone, let alone, engaged. Each time she'd been in Stars Hollow to pick up April, Luke had been either working, or was alone with April in the diner. And Luke had been available for every holiday and special occasion thus far. Actually, it all made sense now--that he hadn't disclosed this woman's existence. She'd wondered why he hadn't invited April up to his home.

April and Anna walked determinedly into the hospital, and up to the Fourth Floor. The woman who'd called had assured her that Luke was past the critical stage. When she entered Luke's room, she was surprised to see that it was filled with flowers. Luke had never seemed like a flower type of guy--in fact, he'd never once given her flowers.

There were two women in the room--a young brunette and an older brunette who reeked of social privilege and class. This must be the Emily Gilmore who'd called her. As she entered the room, the woman she assumed was Emily Gilmore rose to greet her.

"Hello, Miss Nardini. I'm sorry to have to meet you under these circumstances." Emily suddenly became aware. "And this must be the child…"

"Yes, I'm Luke's kid," April chimed in.

Rory defused a potentially awkward situation. "And I'm Rory. Emily's my grandmother and Luke's going to be my stepfather."

"Have you known Luke for a long time?" Anna asked.

"Years," Rory replied, smiling fondly, "For at least ten years. My dad…well he wasn't able to be around when I was growing up, but Luke was always there…" Rory's voice trailed off as it occurred to her that this news was probably something she shouldn't share with the Nardinis.

"Luke, how are you?" Anna turned her attention to Luke.

Luke shrugged, embarrassed to be the center of all this attention.

"Hi April," he addressed his daughter, "sorry I had to miss our lunch…"

"You look awful. What's in this?" April asked, fingering one of the IV lines.

"So Miss Nardini, I understand that you are the proprietress of a boutique?" Emily pulled Anna back into conversation with Rory and her, hoping to ease some of the tension in the room.

-----

Lorelai selfishly wanted to be alone with Luke. She didn't begrudge the fact that his daughter was with him, but she had so much to say to him now that he was beginning his recovery. She stayed seated on the bed, holding Luke's hand and still having difficulty taking her eyes away from him, watching him and his daughter, searching his face for evidence that this Luke, the father, was different from her Luke.

She felt partly responsible for his accident, for their argument the day of the accident. That argument seemed so stupid now, she thought. She'd come so close to losing him. She fingered the ring on the chain around her neck.

He was still her Luke.

_TBC_


	8. Luke Scores his Moment

It was late evening. Tomorrow, they'd be heading home. 

Home. Lorelai was so happy that they were finally going to be back in Stars Hollow. Even with the considerable help her parents' money afforded her, hospital life was exhausting and she wanted nothing more than to crawl into a tent with Luke and hole up somewhere for days, weeks even with him.

Whoa! Had she really thought about being in a tent with him? She chuckled to herself; Luke must really be rubbing off on her.

She smiled contentedly as she returned to Luke's room. All visitors had left. The nurses had made their final rounds for the evening. And she was presented with the best evidence that Luke was slowly recovering: Lord Grumpy was back. Whether it was the food or the personal care or his wondering what exactly was flowing into his veins through the IV, Luke had been very grumpy. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

That afternoon, they'd discussed the plans for his recovery. Three months, the doctor had said. Three months of not exactly bed rest (Dirty!) but limited physical activity. Maybe, he'd be able to go to the diner and sit. Sit! But both Lane and Cesar had assured him that things were going well, and he could just devote himself to the business end of things.

Lorelai had also insisted that he recover at their house, not up in his old apartment. Emily had already paid for a suitable hospital bed and Lorelai had been home exactly once to Stars Hollow to make sure it was positioned correctly in the living room. She knew that Luke would hate all the special arrangements and extra attention; well, she'd just have to make sure she made it worth his while.

Lorelai breezed into Luke's room, softly closing the door behind her. "All done here for the evening?" she asked.

"Jeez, you'd think they'd let a guy get up and go to the bathroom without an escort!" Luke snarkily remarked.

"Hey, can't blame them for looking at your cute butt when you're in those hospital jammies," Lorelai teased.

"Everyone gone? No one lurking around the corner?" he asked.

"All gone. The next time you see anyone, it'll be in Stars Hollow."

"C'mere," Luke beckoned, making room for her next to him on the side opposite of his incision. He impatiently patted the space beside him.

Lorelai, like a mindless clone, had no choice but to acquiesce. Not that she didn't want to; it was just that, when he used that particular low, sexy voice, there was nothing she could deny him. It reverberated deep within her.

"Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story?" she once again teased. "Because I know a lot of them. A lot. What should I start with? Oh. I know. 'Goodnight Moon.'?"

"I never did understand what that one was all about," Luke admitted. "Did Rory have a favorite story?"

Lorelai thought for a moment. "Not really. She was so verbal from an early age, that I often had to scramble to keep up with her. She really wasn't one to want to hear the same thing over and over again. Always something different." She stopped suddenly, noticing a change in his expression. "Luke, are you all right?"

His voice was soft, wistful, sad. "I missed out on all that…with…"

"April," Lorelai finished the sentence for him.

No words were needed. She reached up to stroke his hair, tenderly, just like his mother had when he was little…

"Love you always…"

"Me too," she murmured back to him.

"No, I mean yes, I mean the story…about this mom who says her kid…"

"I remember that one. Still have it in a box in the closet."

"It was her favorite."

Lorelai waited for him to continue.

"My mother's."

"Oh, Luke…" She continued stroking his hair, murmuring soft words of comfort to him.

Minutes later, an orderly knocked on the door and asked Luke if he wanted anything. Lorelai spoke up for him. "Some herbal tea might be nice," she stated.

After the tray with Luke's tea arrived, Lorelai helped him up into what she hoped was a comfortable sitting position. They sat in companiable silence for a few moments, when Luke suddenly reached out for the ring on the chain around her neck.

"Can you take this off for me?" he gently asked.

Lorelai complied, and placed the ring in his outstretched hand.

"I want to set a date."

Lorelai nodded.

"As soon as I'm better…and can…you know…"

"Three months from now…" Lorelai supplied, nodding her head. He nodded in return.

"Lorelai," he asked, once more using the low, sexy voice she so loved.

"Wait. Before you say anything else, there's something I need to know."

Luke waited.

"Why?"

There was no need to continue. Luke both knew, and had long dreaded, her question.

He swallowed, then took a breath. "I was afraid."

"That I would leave you because you had a kid you didn't know about?"

"Yes. And…"

Lorelai squeezed his hand, encouraging him to continue. He couldn't help but notice that her gesture was the same as when she'd first returned the ring to him. He'd memorized every detail of that fateful day. 'But it takes two people to be all in. Keep this,' she'd said as his fingers curled around the ring and she squeezed his hand.

"I know I wasn't all in after April happened."

"Why couldn't you trust me, Luke? Is there something about me that's so awful that…"

He quickly interrupted her. "No. Never. It's not you that's awful. It's me…"

"You? Never!" Lorelai interjected, tears in her eyes.

"I must be an awful prospect for a father if someone won't even tell me when she's having my kid…"

"Oh, Luke. I wondered how you never knew."

"She said I hated kids. Back then. Jam hands and all."

"Luke, everyone dislikes kids at times. Kids are a mess, they are annoying. But then you have your own, and it suddenly all changes…"

"Shh…let me finish," he requested. "And then…how could you want to be with me if I you knew this…"

"Knew what? That April's mother made a horrible judgment call?"

Luke nodded, and Lorelai placed her arms around him, gently hugging him.

"And I was afraid that you wouldn't want to have kids…"

"You'd sooner find me giving up coffee than not want to have your kid…"

"I know. I'm so sorry…"

"I love you, Luke," she reassured him, her eyes meeting his, filled with such love that it took her breath away.

"Crazy lady…Lorelai...will you marry me?"

It took her a moment to realize what he'd said. It took another moment for it to sink in.

"But Luke, I already asked you and you said yes!" Lorelai heard herself say, and knew in that instant that what really mattered was that Luke have his moment.

"That's true," he smiled. "You did. And I did," he agreed. "So maybe we should walk down the aisle and make it official?"

Lorelai didn't even pause to think about it. "We should," she affirmed, "we will."

Carefully and tenderly, Luke slipped the ring back onto her finger, then leaned forward and gently kissed her lips.

That was when he felt the wetness on her face, the tears beginning, yet at the same time, felt her laughter bubbling up through her body. She hiccupped, then wiped away her tears with her sleeve, laughing and crying at once.

"In three months…" she added.

"Let's go up to Maine--there were some beautiful places I saw up there when I was helping out Liz and TJ."

"And there's that Maine lobster…" she added.

"And of course, Rory will be there," he reminded her.

"And April, April's got to be there too," Lorelai insisted.

"I love you, and we're going to get married, and at our wedding, we're going to have lobster."

"And then we're going to make a baby," Lorelai added, bringing a huge grin to Luke's face.

_tbc_


	9. Scoring well on your orals

"You don't know what you're talking about," Lorelai ridiculed, taking another gulp of coffee.

They'd been back home almost a month, and life had settled into a nice routine. Luke was itching to return to work, but Lorelai was happy that he was resting; and she herself had gotten to know April a little better since April was now a daily visitor at the Crap Shack. Luke had been mortified when Lorelai taught his daughter that particular appellation--"Is nothing, no, isn't anyone sacred?"

There was however, one wrinkle in Luke's new life. The resting. From all activities. ALL activities requiring physical exertion.

Inspired by the coffee, which was Luke's of course, and delicious as usual, she continued. "What if I could convince you that I'm right?"

"Oh, sure, Lorelai. How're you going to do that?"

Luke looked mortified. The topic they were discussing made him cringe, yet he knew that he needed to listen to her. It was simply maddening being around her every day, and not being able to act on his feelings. And she, for her part, while being almost sanctimoniously virtuous around him, was, he was convinced, doing her utmost to tease him.

She laughed. "If I could prove to you that it's possible to have a satisfying relationship with someone but not actually have, you know, sex with them…"

"Define sex. Are we talking Christian Right or Bill Clinton?"

Lorelai playfully reached across over the coffee table and swatted him gently on the arm with the newspaper.

"OK, suppose I could, what would you bet? What would it take for you to be all in?"

"Damn doctor rules…" Luke muttered. "I don't see why we can't just…you know…I feel fine. Really!"

"Well I have no desire to call 911 with your dead body and imploding liver on top of me," she smugly retorted.

Just the thought of not being able to be with him drove her crazy, too. But she wouldn't let him see that.

"I'm just saying…that when two people are together, but can't have actual sex, they can still have sex."

"Um, Lorelai..."

"Mmm." She got up, and was now straddling him, while sneaking one hand down the front of his t-shirt.

Luke tried, he really tried, but couldn't suppress the tremor of longing that raced through his body at her touch. It was the first non-healing, non-medical touch they'd shared in weeks.

"Um...Lorelai..." Never a man of words, language seemed to be failing him at a spectacular pace.

His voice was now sounding strained. "You don't have to prove anything to me."

That low sexy voice of his was always her undoing.

"Oh, but I want to." Her fingers emerged again from his t-shirt, only for her to run her nails down the sides of his arms, down to his hands, and then with a quick motion, ending up on the waistband of his sweats.

"You know," she toyed with him, "you're not the most vocal guy in bed. I'd give a lot to get more than a grunt out of you."

"Lorelai, I'm a guy. We grunt."

"Uhh-mm." She tugged at his waistband, giggling as his hips automatically lifted to allow her to pull his sweats down.

Luke, sitting on the couch, was a goner. For a month, living in close proximity with her, he had wanted, no needed, her desperately. Now she had moved off the couch and was kneeling in front of him, all the while looking at him with an expression that was a mixture of all-out love, devilish impishness and humor. His hand reached out and tangled in her hair.

"You don't have to do this," he repeated.

"You'll tell me if anything hurts?" she responded. "Remember, imploding liver…"

Speech now failed him, as she ran a finger along his length, then very very slowly, so very unlike her, began to gently kiss, and then flick her tongue. Both hands were now entwined in her hair, as if desperately anchoring himself to her.

"Lorelai. Lorelai." The only sound in the room came from his now-hoarse whisper.

She snuck a glance up at him. His eyes were closed; his face was slick with sweat. She hoped this all wasn't too much for him.

She hoped not, for at that moment, Luke was just as she wanted him: relaxed, happy, and she hoped, secure in the knowledge that she loved him and desired him.

It didn't take her long to drive him over the edge. With her last motion, he called out her name, now not a whisper, then relaxed back into the couch.

He was still breathing.

Good.

"You good, Hon?" she asked lightly, already knowing the answer, but needing to hear him say it.

"You betcha."

Lorelai smiled, then rose to her feet, and went to clean up.

-----

Returning, she found him still sitting where she'd left him, only with his clothes back on.

Lorelai launched into a discussion of their upcoming wedding. She had donated the original dress to charity--she felt that it was jinxed--and was on the lookout for a new one. "Luke!" She called out when she noticed his testosterone-induced 'I'm in the room with you but not listening' look on this face. "Johnny Damon and I are going to have sex…" she tested his attention.

He guiltily smiled.

"You didn't hear a word I said, did you?"

"Dress, Woodbridge, maybe Hartford…jinx…" he said. "Sorry. I was somewhere else, for a minute."

"Hee! Was it a good place?" she retorted.

"I'm sorry. You were saying?"

"Wedding plans. Tell you what, Hon. I'll call you later." She smirked. "In the meantime, you should rest. April coming by this afternoon?"

"Yeah. At two, I think."

"Any plans?"

"Just hanging around here…except…can you bring your laptop over here?"

She brought it over, and to her surprise, he took over and deftly surfed to a page, then beckoned her over to him.

"I've got something I've been wanting to show you," he stated.

Lorelai peeked over his shoulder.

"The Official Website of April Nardini."

'Focus,' she silently admonished herself, 'focus. Do not cry.'

"April has a website…" she whispered.

"Yeah, take a look…"

She spent a few moments surfing the site. April as a toddler. April in the lab with the infamous DNA-uncle. April's various birthdays. April's prizes. April and her mother.

In so many ways, that could be the story of Rory and her, she thought.

A mother and her precocious daughter. And no daddy.

Except April's daddy had no choice in the matter.

"Oh Luke," she whispered as she clicked to the final page, "you must be so proud of her…"

And there it was. The last page. "My other family." The page had a very funny photo of Luke with a red circle around his face, several photos of Luke behind the diner counter, and a photo of Lorelai and Luke together in the hospital.

"You have no idea," he answered hoarsely. "Anyway, she wants me to work on this page with her today. What do I know about websites?"

She hugged him for a long, long time, work be damned.

-----

Hours later, she returned home. It was much later than she'd anticipated; the inn hadn't exactly fallen apart while she was tending to Luke, but there was still a lot of catching up to do. She'd called and let Luke know, and then asked to speak with April, letting her know where she kept the junk food hidden from Luke, "because I know all his tricks and he's going to try to make you eat green stuff."

Once home, Luke made her sit down on the couch and kick off her shoes. He came up behind her and rubbed her shoulders. Since she'd eaten at the Dragonfly, the only thing she needed was his attention. And after her little challenge that morning, he knew one thing he could do to make her relax.

But first, he had to get her to wind down.

"Death is not an option, Luke. Aliens have come and they are making you marry that Katherine Hepburn-sound-alike Janeway from Voyager. Now you have to decide whom I end up with. Quantum Leap or Picard?"

"What about Shatner," Luke absentmindedly asked.

"I said, death is not an option…" she giggled.

"You're crazy."

"Whoa, be careful there," she requested as he began unbuttoning her blouse. "This fabric is extremely delicate; be careful not to tear anything."

Heeding her advice, he managed to slide the blouse off her shoulders, and then pushed her forward slightly so that he could take the blouse off her. 'What next?' he thought. 'Skirt, stockings, bra?'

'Skirt next,' he decided, immediately regretting his decision. Skirts were such a pain in the ass. Some had zippers, on the side, or in back, then some had tabs and others had zippers with buttons. Others were pull-down. He surveyed the scene.

Communication, that was the key. He placed his hands at her hips and simply commanded, "lift."

No problem. And that's all it took to have his gorgeous fiancée sitting there half-naked.

"Let's go upstairs," he murmured, coming around to the front and extending his hand to her.

Too tired to insist that they stay downstairs, she murmured, "You can make it up the stairs OK?"

"Can do."

She giggled as she followed him up the stairs. He smoothly pulled back the covers, then motioned her to take her place on the bed. He pulled the covers over her, and placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Be right back," he told her, going into the bathroom, turning on the water in the claw-foot tub. As it filled, he looked around at Lorelai's bewildering array of salon products. Grabbing the first one with the word 'bubble' on it, he dumped in a few capfuls and let the tub fill up with fragrant foam.

He called into the bedroom, "Your bath is ready, milady," as he walked towards her, and pulled the covers back. She had slipped off her bra and panties while he'd been filling the tub.

"Huzzah!" she proclaimed.

"Wow…" was all he could say.

She took his hand and let him lead her to the tub. He then assisted her into the tub, asking, "Is the temperature all right?" he asked.

"Perfect," Lorelai purred.

Bubbles were everywhere as she sank her head against the rolled towel he'd placed on the edge of the bath. His hands wandered underneath the bubbles.

"Not a chance, bud," she admonished. "I'm not risking you hurting yourself. Tell me about your afternoon with April."

She closed her eyes, enjoying the pampering effect of the bath, while listening to Luke describe his adventures in web design. By the time he was done with his story, he had her laughing, the bubbles were going away, and he rose to grab a towel, and extend her a hand as she stepped out of the tub.

Somehow, they managed to get her toweled off and made it from the bathroom into bed, both in a carefree mood, a mood they hadn't been in for months.

She reached for the nightstand to pull out a nightgown.

"You won't be needing that just yet," he let her know, yanking the offending garment out of her hands.

"Luke…" she admonished, "you know you're not allowed to…"

"Lie back," he softly responded, and she did, without question.

He sat down next to her, tracing his fingers down the center of her abdomen. "Where to start, where to start?" he idly asked, as she shivered beneath his touch.

His fingers wandered back up, back over her abdomen and then to her breasts. He gently cupped her right breast in his hand and flicked his thumb across the nipple. Now she was a goner.

"It seems…I need to do some thanking here tonight," he murmured, replacing his fingers with his lips. He soon had her alternating between ecstatic writhing, and squirming with glee, as her overactive mind alternated between concentrating on the sensations he was causing, and talking a mile a minute about something funny that had happened at work that day.

She did this a lot, and though he liked to pretend that it annoyed him, like all her quirks, it both amused and pleased him.

After a few minutes, when she was breathing heavily, he decided to put an end to her chatter by parting her legs. Positioning himself between them, he repeatedly tasted her sweetness and managed to replace her chatter with moans and finally, a soft cry. And when her breathing calmed, he repeated himself, laughing with her in happiness.

"See, Luke, I'm always right," she chuckled afterward, stroking his hair gently as he rested his head on her thigh. "Told ya it would be good…"

"Sleep," he told her, "you've had a busy day."

Her foot, under the covers, wiggled around until it found his, and then settled itself upon it for the night. Her hand found his and held it; smiling, she wished him goodnight.

And as usual, proceeded to talk just three minutes later.

"Luke," she said, matter-of-factly, "there's just one thing I need to know."

"Whazzat?"

"If it's this hard for you to last three months without doing it, what are you going to do in seven months?"

"Huh?" Luke was perplexed.

"Yeah, in seven months. We won't be able to do it for oh…six weeks…though I hear some people hop back into the saddle after just three or four."

"Do what?" he sleepily asked.

"It."

"It? As in…it?"

"The one and the same."

"Seven months from now. Don't get it."

"Oh, you'll notice soon."

"'Night, Lorelai," he brought her hand up to his lips. "Love ya."

And only then did it register. Seven months from now. No sex for some time.

How could she be so calm?

He took his cue from her. "Do you think we'll need to move the wedding up?" he murmured.

"Oh yeah."

He took a deep breath and lay very still.

"Are you sniffing me?" he asked.

"You smell...just right."

-----

It took Luke a long, long time to fall asleep that night. 


End file.
